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Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Our Toxic Toothpastes

The time I made it to bed last night escapes me, but it was well ahead of midnight ─ possibly even before 11:30 p.m. My youngest step-son Pote ─ who had been home without his girlfriend all evening ─ took off in his older brother Tho's car, and I could not bear to be sitting here at my computer if he returned home with her.

I just didn't want to know.

So I ensured the front door was locked, and hustled myself to bed ─ with earplugs, of course.

I don't recall the time I had my first break in sleep and used the bathroom, but it wasn't any later than 7:18 a.m. that I checked the time and decided to start my day.

I wanted to replenish my liquor supply, so it was my intention to try and get out this morning for a hike to the government liquor store about two miles distant.

First, though, I put in some work compiling content into the new post I set up yesterday at my Siam-Longings website.

Meanwhile, I had seen that Pote was home and in bed ─ and he seemed even to be alone there.

Fall arrived at some point early today, but it is nothing but clear blue skies hereabouts.

It took me unusually long to decide what to wear for my outing, and as a large consequence of that I never got on my way until 11:18 a.m.

Pote was still in bed.

I felt no rush ─ I wanted to benefit from the sunshine.

At the liquor store, I bought a bottle of rye whisky and a half-dozen cans of beer. I'll probably get out for my major beer resupply on Sunday.

I was back and into the house by 12:50 p.m., so the excursion had just exceeded 1½ hours.

Pote was gone...but he had left the front door unlocked, the hapless nitwit. I expect that he had to start work early in the afternoon, so he had probably headed out to catch a bus.

I had a breakfast/lunch of the last of my wife Jack's cooking from the past two days; and then at 2:13 p.m. I was out in the backyard seated in a chair, and wearing aught but cut-offs as I faced into the Sun for 40 minutes.

It is 3:29 p.m. as I type these words, and that is my day thus far.

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I have a fairly old family photo to post:

This photo of my maternal grandmother Jessie Hyatt was probably taken in 1974 or 1975.

The quality of the photo is so bad that I cannot see sufficient detail of that hanging picture, nor the furniture piece off to the side of my grandmother, for me to be able to tell if I can recognize either item ─ if I could, then I would have a good idea where the photo was taken.

It may have been snapped in Calgary when my younger brother Mark and his girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther went there to attend the wedding of my maternal cousin Gail Hyatt; or it just may be a photo taken here in Surrey when my grandmother was visiting one of her two daughters (Irene Dorosh, Nell Halverson) who were then living here.

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When you brush your teeth, do you use a toothpaste?

You probably realize that membranes like the tissues inside the mouth readily absorb chemicals, so we should really be very careful about the chemicals we put into our mouths.

The absolutely worst toothpaste ─ and thus the most dangerous to have in your mouth ─ is Colgate.

The next worst is Crest.

We have four different brands here in the house, and I checked them for ingredients.

Two only listed fluoride ─ absolutely nothing else. One of them was Colgate.

Two others ─ one of which was Crest ─ listed just one other ingredient. Pronamel had potassium nitrate in addition to fluoride; and Crest listed sodium hexametaphosphate along with fluoride.

Now, people either believe that fluoride is dangerous, and is associated with all kinds of ills ranging from cancer to diabetes to brain damage; or else they prefer to believe the blind or bought-and-paid for health authorities that fluoride is not only harmless, but essential and beneficial.

Perhaps it is a peculiarity of Canada that toothpaste here does not have to list everything that's in it ─ I just don't know.

When I brush my teeth, I do so for a long while ─ 10 or even 15 minutes, sometimes. I tend to brush while watching T.V.

But I don't do it with toothpaste anymore ─ I used to use toothpastes for decades, and I have brushed my teeth for 10 to 15 minutes since the late 1960s.

I wince now to even begin to imagine how much of the toothpaste poisons my mouth tissues absorbed over those years.

After turning my back on toothpastes a half-dozen or more years ago, I have experimented with just water, but also table salt, baking soda, and even hydrogen peroxide.

But lately, I have been using coconut oil.

I became aware a year or two ago of the value of oil pulling for oral health ─ the target is to do it for about 20 minutes, but some people have the patience to double that amount of time.

So I got the bright idea that I would brush for 10 to 15 minutes with coconut oil, and then swish it about in my mouth afterwards for a few more minutes.

Then I expectorate outside into a fairly large garden to avoid a clogging build-up of the coconut oil in the drainpipes.

I only brush my teeth once in the evening, but sometimes I don't bother and just oil pull instead ─ I actually do that a couple of times a day, and always rinse out my mouth after eating a meal in order to minimize any acid damage that can happen from certain foods.

But that's me!

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I was reading something about a study that found how a mere eight weeks following a Paleo diet seemed to have demonstrable heart health benefits, and participants even lost weight without that being an objective.

I found it a little peculiar that the second reference cites a claim made by some study that the Paleo diet could lead to rapid weight gain (and risk of diabetes), whereas the folks in the study we're concerned with reported weight loss.

Personally, I think the old-fashioned Mediterranean diet is superior ─ the sort of diet described here:

I see no reason to avoid alcohol if one has no scruples against it, nor should dairy products be avoided if it is possible to get away from the 'Big Dairy' products we're having forced down our throats.

And don't forget lots of those delicious saturated fats!

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Well, I think I shall bow out for the day with this 41-year-old entry from my journal back when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

The house my room was being rented in was located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.

On my venue for the day was a very long hike to visit my mother Irene Dorosh out in Surrey. Had I chosen to just walk directly to her home in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey, it would have taken me about 1½ hours at a fast walk.

However, I had recently hit upon a far greater calorie-burner. Instead of going directly to her home, I instead followed the King George Highway all the way to Newton, then turned right onto 72nd Avenue in order to access the railway tracks that crossed the avenue a short ways along there.

Upon gaining the railway tracks, I turned right onto them, and then followed them as far as the Surrey terminus of 90th Avenue at Holt Road.

My mother's home was a half-dozen or so houses down 90th Avenue on the right-hand side of the road. The house is gone now, but its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue ─ it was my main mailing address.

That longer haul would have taken about three hours if walked, but I had taken to running from 88th Avenue until I reached 72nd Avenue, and it cut down on the overall time.

SUNDAY, September 21, 1975

I believe I shall be very tired this evening; I awoke at 2:00 a.m.

Departure time for mom's: 4:35 a.m....via Newton, of course, eating a breakfast along the way of any apples I am able to snitch.

I had my 2 or whatever mile run to the tracks. But first I must report that there was someone flat on his back asleep at the foot of the stairs of Bill's apartment building; and Bill's light was on.

By the time I made Whalley it was necessary for me to defecate in the bush across from the Surrey Inn.

I arrived at mom's just as they were in the process of arising, I had reason to believe; so I killed some time sitting by the tracks.

I came back in time to see Alex come outside; he didn't see me, so I kept out of sight around the house. I finally nonchalantly made greeting while he was washing his car, and learned they were going to treat Cathy & kids to breakfast somewhere; Mark had to work this morn.

Feeling a burden to Alex, I said I would go with them to Mark's and wait while they were out, taking along the griddle and Western ticket I had for Cathy (I hadn't the gall to sit behind while they left me there alone ─ that is, at Alex').

So I went, and began my wait. Most of my time was spent on my back; I ate a few of their pears.

Finally, despairing (I did not care to sit up all day, having had the hope my chicken at mom's would be a lunch stew), I left Cathy a note explaining my package for her, and at 1:45 p.m. left for home, resigned to pancakes.

My lack of sleep was manifesting itself, and I didn't wish to be caught up in a late-night celebration of Cathy's imminent birthday.

I had a note explaining to Bill when to pick me up for the smorgasbord tomorrow, but his car was gone.

I proceeded to Uptown's and bought oranges, eggs, and a light bulb to replace this morning's dead one in the kitchen.

My lovely pancake feed involved the finishing of the watery jam given me by mom, and the filling use of peanut butter very thick.

I did my exercises, striving to be free for 6:00 p.m. so I could view TV.

Just before that hour, and sopping wet, came knocking: Cathy.

So I answered, and was eventually persuaded to accompany her home with my gallon of wine.

Me and Mark got blasted, and even Cathy got the feeling.

I recall Mark retiring, and believe I even kissed Cathy.

Somehow I wound up with a sweater, and walked home.

I phoned Bill from the A & W, and if Venus was open, it was my sotted intention to buy a pizza; but it was closed.

I have a suspicion I may have been sick.

It seems Bill hasn't a car, but should tomorrow.

My bed hour is unknown.

All of that latter entry was clearly written the following day ─ I was recording from memory.

Had I written it after getting back to my room, it would have been almost illegible.

I am unsure why I had been hiking to visit my mother on recent weekends ─ I was uncomfortable around her husband Alex. He normally worked during the week, so that was the best time to pay the visit.

My old friend William Alan Gill had a bachelor suite in a building not too far from where I was living in New Westminster ─ I sometimes left him a note on his car, since I had no telephone.

I think the apple tree(s) of interest to me for breakfast that morning was or were just a short ways outside of Whalley, on the right-hand side of the King George.

So across the King George Highway from there, it used to be quite wooded.

The next day was to be the birthday of my younger brother Mark's beautiful girlfriend, Catherine Jeanette Gunther. She had two beautiful little girls who just loved my mother and Alex, and they in turn loved the little girls and Jeanette.

Since my mother and Alex were going to be treating Jeanette and the girls to breakfast, I felt obliged to go along ─ Jeanette and Mark rented a home together located on Bentley Road in Whalley. It was no problem for me to hang out there while everyone was away.

But I grew restless and tired and probably very hungry ─ I had left a stewing chicken with my mother a couple or so days before, and I had been imagining enjoying a lovely chicken stew for my lunch this day.

Jeanette's birthday was to be the following day, so I expected that there would be some celebrating later that evening after Mark was home from work. I felt too tired to be hanging around and getting involved in it.

I had mail-ordered some sort of special fancy skillet for Janette, plus a Western Lottery ticket ─ I left those with a note of explanation, and headed on back to my room in New Westminster.

I'm unsure how I was able to exercise after the sort of pancake feed I would normally indulge in ─ I made my pancakes from scratch, using two cups (coffee cups) of flour.

I was probably "sopping wet" from a shower when Jeanette came knocking. She must have called to me, for I normally would not answer my door ─ most people near to me realized this.

I loved and adored Jeanette ─ there was no way that I would have been able to resist her importunes to come back to her home to help celebrate her upcoming birthday. And especially since she drove there to see me!

There were no alcohol sales on Sundays at that time, but I apparently had an unopened gallon of some kind of wine ─ Mark would have loved to have seen that when I showed up with Jeanette!

I daresay that it was after midnight when I left that night and staggered all the way back to New Westminster. The A & W I phoned Bill from was not too far outside of Whalley ─ somewhere near the top of the hill leading down to the Pattullo Bridge.

Bill's car was being repaired, and he had been getting a sharp discount on rentals in lieu of a courtesy car ─ evidently he explained to me that he wasn't presently with a car, and that was why I had not seen it earlier that day.

Somehow I remembered that, even if I could not precisely recall being sick at some point.